Hetalia: Abusers
by Hetalian WhoLock
Summary: What if our favorite Hetalia boys weren't as sweet and silly as they seem? What if they were cruel and cold? A ReadersXAbusive!Prussia/Germany/Russia/France/England/America fanfiction
1. The Rapist

Gilbert had been dating you for a long while. It had almost been a year and a half now. But much to Gilbert's displeasure, you still felt unready to hit a "home run", as Alfred called it. Gilbert would get you so close and ready, but as soon as he got down to your underwear, you would stop him and tell him you weren't ready.

And it made him angry.

You came home from work one day, exhausted from hours of dealing with small kids at the school you worked at as a Pre-School Teacher. You hung up your coat and hat and took of your shoes. "Gil?! Hunny, I'm home!" you called into the house.

"In the living room, liebe~ I have a surprise for you~," he said in his scratchy, yet pleasant voice. You smiled a bit, thinking maybe you would be receiving flowers. Instead, when you walked into the living room, your boyfriend sat on the couch, naked and rubbing— something you weren't interested in seeing.

"G-Gilbert!" you gasped, covering your mouth and looking away quickly. "Gil, I'm not ready, I told you!"

"Please, liebe?~" he purred, standing up and forcing you to look up at him, holding you close. "I promise, it'll feel amazing~" You pushed him off.

"Gilbert Beilschmidt go put your pants on." You forced your head away again. He grabbed your chin roughly and kissed you.

"Or you could cover my junk up with your mouth~?" he said hopefully. He was growing impatient.

"Gilbert that's disgusting—"

"Get on your knees, liebe~" he growled.

"Gil—"

"I said get on your knees!" he snapped. You jumped and pulled away from him, running upstairs to the bedroom you shared, locking yourself in. Gilbert followed slowly. He was furious that you were resisting. "(Name)~ Unlock the door please~"

You unlocked the door and looked out a bit, convinced that he wouldn't hurt you. "Gilbert, please, you need to calm—" He forced the door open and locked it behind him. You looked terrified when he turned back around and he grinned.

"Like what you see?" he asked, as you tried to avert your eyes from his naked body. When you didn't respond, he frowned and sauntered towards you. "I asked you a question, (Name)." He grabbed your breast roughly and started sucking on your neck.

"Oh! Gilbert stop it!" you squeaked. He grabbed your hair and glared into your wide, scared (e.c.) eyes with his scarlet ones.

He licked his lips impatiently. "You want to make me happy, don't you?" he growled. You nodded.

"Not like this, sweetheart, please stop this," you breathed. His grip on your hair tightened and you whimpered.

"Do this for me," he begged shortly. "You embarrass me, (name), you make me seem like a dork in front of all of my friends, just because you have a stick up your ass and don't want to fuck around with me!" You gapped at him. This was not the man you had fallen for. This was _not_ your Gilbert. "Get on your knees, bitch. Don't make me ask you again."

You covered your mouth. "Gilbert, why are you—?" You started sobbing and he pushed you down to your knees. You screamed that you didn't want to, but he ignored you, pushing his erection into your mouth and thrusting his hips back and forth.

"Suck, liebe~" he groaned. You tried to pull your mouth away, but he pushed your head forward, causing you to deep throat him. You gagged a bit and could barely breathe. He finally came in your mouth with a loud moan and threw you onto the bed by your hair. You spit out his seed and tried to crawl away. Not fast enough.

"Gil, please!" you sobbed as he started tearing your pants from your waist and touching you through your panties. You wined a bit, because it felt good where you were touching. You hated to admit it, you didn't want it to feel good.

He cackled. "Good?~" he purred in your ear. He turned you around so your back was on the bed and your legs were around his waist. He ripped your panties off, literally tearing them, and pushed his index finger into your heat. You moaned and screamed for him to stop as he pushed two more fingers in (making three) and thrust. "Ja, ist es sehr gut~"

"Please, Gilbert! I hate you! I hate you!" you screamed. He ignored you and pushed into you with a shaky groan. You screamed louder. He covered your mouth and started thrusting into your bleeding vagina. When he finally finished with you, he told you he 'loved you too', and kissed your cheek. He pulled out and cleaned himself off.

"Clean this mess up," he ordered to your sobbing figure before walking out.


	2. The Wife Beater

Germany, Ludwig, your husband, had been acting very differently lately. He started arguments as often as he could, and was all business and sex with no fun involved for you and your two year old son, Marco. He snapped at you a lot, sex was more rough and less loving, and he seemed to be pushing his own son out of his life.

About three months after this change in behavior began, he got a letter in the mail. You didn't get a chance to read it until later, when you found out he was being laid off from his job. As soon as he read the letter he picked a fight with you about how the sink wasn't completely spotless. Usually you found it cute when, after you finished the dishes, you would come back in to see him bent over, scrubbing the sink to perfection. But this time, the way he shoved you out of the way to get to the sink, mumbling something about you doing it all wrong, you were annoyed and hurt.

"Excuse me, Mr. Grumpy-pants, I wasn't finished," you chuckled darkly. Marco was in the room, playing with pots and pans, so you were keeping your vocabulary appropriate.

"Ja? Well maybe if you worked harder and faster, I wouldn't have to clean up your mess everyday," he growled impatiently, leaning over to scrub a piece of lettuce that you had missed off of the sink wall.

"Excuse me? I don't see you doing much around the house to help me," you fought back.

"Oh? Really, because I go back after everything you 'clean' and do it right. _I'm_ the one who does all the real cleaning around here, plus I'm the one bringing money into the house," he spat at you. You put your hands on your hips.

"That is _not_ entirely true, Ludwig. _I _clean the best I can, take care of our son, and work on the weekends to bring a little extra home," you argued. He waved you off and went up to bed. His jabs had really hurt you and you took them to heart. You didn't tell him you knew about his job so that he wouldn't feel too badly.

Almost a week went by, and nothing out of the ordinary happened. But on Saturday, when Ludwig would usually be at work (he told you he had the weekend off), and Marco went to the babysitter, you caught him doing something you didn't expect to see. You had been on your way to work, almost an hour away, when you realized you had forgotten your phone. You rushed back home to get it, going in. The house smelled slightly of alcohol and you could hear muffled voices in Ludwig's office. You got your phone and quietly approached the door, which was slightly ajar. You peaked in and covered your mouth, seeing a naked woman laying across his desk, while Ludwig practically made out with her inner thighs and her vagina.

You felt like crying. Ludwig was…cheating on you? You finally pulled your gaze away from the beautiful woman your husband was making love to, and left the house quickly. The woman was Ludwig's fantasy girl: blonde, busty, and at least ten years younger than you yourself, while you were a brunette with an almost flat chest and almost 30 years old. You got in the car and drove to work.

The next day you tried to get over what you had seen Ludwig doing to someone who wasn't yourself, and acted as normal as possible. You kept thinking that maybe if you pretended it wasn't real, then it never actually happened. As you got into your bed with your husband, who's back was facing you, you put your hand on his shoulder. "Ludwig…? Are you still awake?" you asked quietly. He grunted in response. You took a deep breath. "I-I know that you lost your job…"

He stiffened and turned around. "How?" he asked shortly, sitting up and turning on the light.

"I read the letter—"

"That was a private letter," he interrupted you.

"I'm sorry, I was just worried about you, okay?" you sniffed, starting to cry. "You've been acting so strange lately, and I'm worried about you."

"You should learn to stay out of other people's business, (name)," he mumbled.

"But it _is_ my business! We're married!" you reminded him. "You're my best friend and the man I love and I care about you. Why are you shutting me out?!"

He got up. His rage was boiling. He didn't want to hurt you but he was on the edge of a breakdown. "I'm going to a friend's tonight. I'll call you in the morning," he said.

This just made you angry. "Why aren't you listening to me?!" you sobbed. He ignored you and started to leave. "Where are you going Ludwig?!" Again, he ignored you. You followed him out the door and growled. "Are you going to your girlfriends house?"

He stopped. "What?" he breathed.

"Are you going to leave me and our son?" you asked. You started crying harder. "Are you going to leave me and our son so you can go eat out some sluts pussy?!"

He turned around, clearly outraged by your question. He marched over to you. "You listen here, _Frau._ You have it all wrong. Whatever you think you saw, it wasn't anything to be concerned with. Now go back to bed and sleep before you say something you'll regret." he suggested. He turned and started leaving again.

"No, don't go, Ludwig, we need to talk—" He shook his head, stopping and slapping you across the face. You gasped. "L-Ludwig…?"

"Shut up, meine liebe, or I _will_ hurt you," he growled at you. You just gapped at him. This made him angrier. Everything you did lately made him angry. He didn't know why, and he hated it, but you were making him miserable. He dragged you downstairs, growling with rage, and threw you to the floor. You started to get up, but he kicked you roughly, breaking some of your ribs. You screamed and he started beating you, bruising and bloodying the face that had been causing him so much pain and suffering over the last few months. You sobbed as he grabbed your neck and held his hands there, squeezing. You choked and coughed.

"L-Lud…wig?!" you squeaked, bringing your hands up to his and trying to pry his fingers away from your throat. "P-Please…" Black spots formed in your vision and you started slipping into unconsciousness. He finally let go when your eyes fluttered closed. He stood up and spat on your beaten face.

"Ich bin sehr traurig, meine Liebe…(I am very sorry, my love…)" he breathed.

He didn't know that you heard him.


	3. The Alcoholic

Ivan was your true love. You just knew it! You loved him with all of your heart and he always told you that he loved you too. But every time you thought he was going to propose: nothing. He would drive you home and say goodnight.

Three months into your relationship, you started to feel like he was hiding something. He would leave dates early, saying he was running late for a meeting, and always seemed to disappear from a text conversation for an hour or more. One day you came out and asked, "Ivan, I need to know, is there something you aren't telling me? I really like you but if there's another girl—"

He had interrupted you. "I was afraid you were going to ask me that…look, (Name), I was embarrassed to tell you this. I'm an alcoholic. I've been sober for almost a year now. I just—" This time you had cut him off, with a kiss. You told him there was nothing to be embarrassed about.

Now, two years into your relationship, you were living together in a tiny apartment. It was nice, always being around him. But you were getting the feeling he was hiding something again. He spent a lot of time in the bedroom, "working". One day when you came back from shopping, you found him passed out on the bed with a bottle of vodka. You tried to take the bottle from his hand gently, but he rolled over, holding the bottle like he held you…

This was where all of your real troubles began.

Four months after this incident, Ivan was constantly drinking. He always carried around a little flask filled with vodka, he stopped going to meetings, and didn't spend any time with you. You felt neglected and sad. Ivan would just lay on the bed, downing his fifth mini-bottle of vodka, the TV on, blaring loudly, then he would turn it down, then up, then down.

Finally you decided you had had enough. You took all of his alcohol and threw it in the trash. He didn't seem to care for the first hour, then he started getting hung over and fell asleep.

The next morning, he reached for his flask, finding it gone. He stood up and stumbled out to the kitchen. "(Name). Where're my booze?" he mumbled, searching through the cupboards. You smiled at him and kissed his cheek.

"Good morning to you too, Ivan," you giggled.

"Where're my booze?" he asked again. You frowned. You hadn't noticed he had gained any weight. But now that he was standing, you could see his face was fuller and he was starting to get a beer gut. He snapped at you. "Hey." You snapped out of your worried trance and looked at him. He kept snapping in your face. "My booze, девушка (devushka or girl), where are my fucking booze?!" You backed away a bit in surprise.

"T-There's some orange juice in the fridge….O-Or I could make you some tea?" you offered. He glared at you. You sighed. "Ivan I'm putting up some rules. No more drinking in the house, and you can only go out for a drink once a week."

"Who're you to be making fucked up rules like that?" he asked coldly.

You blushed. "The girl who loves you and cares about you, Vanya…" you smiled sadly. He just rolled his eyes and blankly searched the cupboards again. "Because I love you, Ivan…."

"Did you throw them away?" he asked from behind the cupboard door. You felt a pang of sadness in your heart.

"Y-Yes. I threw all of your disgusting vodka away," you chuckled angrily. He tsked in annoyance and went to the bedroom, slamming and locking the door. You touched your hand to your chest, feeling heartbroken. You went to the bedroom and knocked on the door. "Ivan…? Ivan, hunny, do you want to take a walk with me…?"

No response.


	4. The Cheater

"Oh!~ Ma amour!~" your boyfriend groaned. The bed was creaking and rocking as he pounded his hips against his lover's, passionate and loving, in a way you had never experienced before. Your eyes were fiery, staring at the lust and pleasure in his blue ones. "Oh I love you so much!~"

You rolled your eyes, feeling hurt as the woman under him cried, "Oh Francis!~" in a shrill nasally voice.

Of course you weren't the one he was making love to. You never were. You were just a label and a place holder for Francis. He made it blatantly obvious that he had no interest in you. But that didn't stop you from loving him with all of your heart and trying anything to make him feel the same. You turned and ran out of the room, going on a jog for about an hour. When you returned home, he was sitting on the couch with a plate of food, eating slowly.

"Ah, (name), where have you been?" he asked, not looking at you. He didn't care.

"I went on a jog," you told him.

"Interesting, tell me more," he mumbled, finishing his plate and walking out to the kitchen. You followed him.

"D-Did you leave any for me?" you asked hopefully. You were starving, having not eaten all day on his request. He had told you the night before that you may have more of an appeal on men if you lost some weight. That morning he had told you that you didn't need breakfast or lunch and if he saw any improvement, then maybe you could have some dinner.

He sighed, and washed his plate. "No, I don't think you've lost enough weight." He stared at your body, which to him had very little sex appeal. You were a size 12, where he preferred a size 0; You had an ashy hair color, where he preferred blonde; and your face had too many blemishes and freckles and zits for his liking, he wanted a tan girl with perfect skin. You knew all of this. You knew about his unrealistic fantasies of women. At first, you had thought this was crazy and shallow. But then he had brought his first "perfect" woman home. And she was gorgeous. More gorgeous than you could ever be.

"O-Oh…" you said simply. You held your stomach as it let out a ravenous bellow. He gave you a disgusted look and you blushed. "I-I'm sorry."

"Go to bed, (name), I'm having Marina over tonight," he told you. Out of all his women, Marina was his favorite. You nodded in agreement, going to bed in the guest room with a full mind and an empty belly. You never actually got to sleep, kept awake by Francis and Marina's grunts and moans and by the thunderous roars your stomach kept letting out.

The next morning, you got up, exhausted and starving, and snuck downstairs to get an apple. You hoped Francis was still asleep. He was. But Marina was downstairs, in nothing but Francis' night shirt, getting herself a cup of coffee. You blushed and grabbed your apple.

"Hey, sweetie," Marina greeted nicely. You nodded. "What's wrong?" You froze, annoyed. She was always so nosey, asking you what you were doing every second, asking you why you looked the way you looked.

"I'm not like you, that's what's wrong," you mumbled, taking a bit of your apple. "And because of it, the man I love looks at me like I'm nothing."

"Oh, (name)," she chuckled. "Come on, let's have a spa day! I'll make you gorgeous and Francis is bound to love you!"

Long story short, she took you to get your nails french manicured, your hair dyed and styled, and makeup done, brought you to a tanning bed, and bought you a couple new outfits. She bought you a corset that made you look like a size 0, and finally, she taught you a couple of tips on how to act around Francis, behaviors that would make him want you. Then she brought you home. Francis was sitting on the porch with a cigarette. He watched you get out of the car, raising an eyebrow. He stood up and went down to you. "Well, hello, chaton," he smirked, taking your hand and kissing it.

You giggled, like Marina had taught you to. "Hi, handsome," you said.

His smirk fell. "Do I know you?" he asked.

"What?" you said, surprised.

"Your voice, it's so familiar," he said.

"Um…yeah," you frowned, dropping your act. "It's me your girlfriend."

He looked shocked. "Non!" he laughed. "Marina come here." Marina hurried over to him, clinging to his arm.

"Francis! I love you! You always told me to follow my love to the end and never give up! You mean everything to me, and I just want you to love me!" you said, snapping and starting to cry.

He smiled. "You are right. That is my philosophy." He looked at Marina and held her hand. "I love you, Mari~ Will you marry me?" he proposed, holding up a diamond ring. You stumbled back, heartbroken, as Marina grabbed the ring from him and kissed him deeply.

Months later, even after he married Marina, he still kept you at his side, knowing you would go through hell and back to stay with him.

And that's exactly the kind of torture he wanted you to go through.


	5. The Ignorant One

"Alfie~" you said, rubbing your fiancé's belly. He mumbled something and rolled over. "Alfred, breakfast is ready."

He opened his eyes and sat up slowly. "What'd you get me?"

"A McGriddle and a few pancakes," you smiled. He got up, yawning and waddling downstairs, not even noticing that you were naked. You rolled your eyes and followed him. He had gained so much weight over the past few months, you were constantly wondering when he wouldn't be able to walk anymore or when he would collapse of a heart attack. But you just kept spoiling him and spoiling him, letting him get fattened up with attention while you starved for his. When you got downstairs, you saw him in his chair, a cold beer already in his hand. He had the TV on and was watching infomercials. You always felt hurt that he would rather stare at advertisements than give you the tiniest bit of love.

You went to the kitchen and brought him his big breakfast, pinching his cheek before kissing it, and kneeling in front of him. He glanced down at you then took a big bite of his McGriddle. You licked the crumbs off his belly, trying to gain his attention. He just sighed. "What?"

You blushed, standing and sitting on his lap. "Well…I was thinking we could…you know?~" you giggled, winking.

Alfred tried to look passed you to see the TV, a bored expression on his face. "I'm going to Arthur's tonight," he said.

You pouted. "With who? I'm not driving you," you scoffed.

"Gilbert and Ludwig are giving Ivan and I a ride," he said bluntly. You blushed, if all of Alfred's friends would be there….

"I-Is Francis going?" you asked hopefully.

He narrowed his eyes, now giving you his full attention. "Yes, why?"

You shrugged. "I need to thank him for something," you said simply.

"He doesn't like it when people thank him for sex." You turned red.

"What?! I-I didn't s-sleep with him!" you laughed.

"Get off," he said. "And get me another beer." You sighed and got off, going to the kitchen. Of course you had slept with Francis… he actually cared. Well….at least a little….

More than Alfred ever would.


	6. The Slave-Driver

You waited anxiously for Arthur to come home from work. You had a short blue dress on with an apron. It was one of the only items of clothing he had allowed you to keep once you moved in with him. You kept an eye on the front door and glanced at the microwave every so often. You started towards the microwave, going to see if Arthur's dinner was still warm. As you opened it, the front door opened and closed. You heard him take off his coat and hang it up, before Arthur actually walked into the kitchen.

"Dinner?" he asked, not giving you a second glance.

"Just finished it," you said, although it had been done for an hour. He was just late.

"You're lying," he growled, hands snaking around your waist.

You froze up. "I-I mean, j-just finished heating it up for you. I-It's been done for a while," you stammered. He smirked as he kissed your neck.

"You know I don't like it when you lie." You gulped and nodded. You felt your husband let go of you and sit down at the kitchen table, waiting to eat. You turned around, avoiding eye contact, and placed his plate in front of him. You sat down across from his and played with the hem of your dress. "(Name)," he said in a calm, but clearly annoyed voice.

You looked up at him. His green eyes burned holes through you and his fork was clenched in his hand. "My food. It's cold," he said shortly.

You gapped a bit and stood up. "I-I'm so sorry! I'll heat it up again—" You started to take his plate away but he slapped your hand away.

"Sit. Down," he ordered. You obeyed, scared. You were careful to maintain eye contact this time. "How much money do I make, and bring into our little home every day?"

"£1,000,000," you said, shaking slightly.

"I run a big business, (name). Everyday I have to worry about finances and bills and how much to pay my workers. It's stressful! But I work hard and make big money to pay for your lazy ass to stay with me!" he snapped.

"I—"

"Shut up!" You stopped trying. "You ungrateful bitch! I can't even get a warm meal in my own home! We have the money, so what are we doing wrong?! No, what are _you_ doing wrong?! The answer is: everything! You can't cook me a meal, you always manage to make the house a mess, and you're boring!" You started crying. "Oh good lord! What, you think I'm 'abusing' you again?! Snap out of it!" You took a deep breath and tried to take the plate from him. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" You jumped and pulled your hand away. He grabbed a fist full of his dinner and threw it in your face. "I didn't want your nasty food anyway." He stood up. "Get ready for our guests. Wear that dress I gave you the other day, I want our guests to be entertained." He smirked at you and walked into the living room with a glass of wine. You hurried upstairs to the bedroom to change into the revealing black mini-dress, the sides barely covered and your cleavage clearly showing.

You hurried back downstairs and made dinner for the guests and Arthur. You finished and placed it on the table just in time for them to arrive. You were quick to answer the knock on the door. You took a deep breath and opened it, smiling at the Frenchman, who was dressed in a unbuttoned white button down and stared at you with lust. You let him in, taking his coat and making sure to touch him as much as possible, knowing he liked it. He smirked and chuckled at you, going into the living room to make out with your husband until the other guests arrived. You waited, getting the door when the rest arrived. Gilbert swaggered in and kissed you deeply on the lips; Ludwig nodded politely at you; Ivan ignored you, a bottle of vodka in his hands; and Alfred waddled in, ten pounds heavier than the last time you saw him. You closed the door as they filed into the house. You hurried to tell them dinner was ready and they were welcome to take their seats in the dining room while you got Arthur. They went to the dining room, shortly followed by Francis and Arthur. You then went to the stereo to turn on some music. You stared at a wedding picture of you and Arthur and sucked in a breath. This was for the best. Arthur knew how to treat you and you deserved every piece of abuse he gave you…it just hurt you to see him drink and become a monster filled with anger and lust and violence.

"(Name)," Arthur called to you. You snapped out of your trance and turned to see him beckoning you over shortly. You hurried to the table and took your seat next to him, with Gilbert at to your right. Arthur proposed a toast. "To my wife, and my friends!" Everyone cheered and raised their glasses. As Arthur set down his wine, you moved your arm to set your own glass of water down, and knocked his red wine over. It spilled across the white tablecloth and onto his trousers. You gasped and dropped to your knees grabbing your napkin and starting to wipe the drink off of him, trying your hardest to make it dry. He chuckled lowly and smiled normally at his friends.

"Sorry," you whispered. You felt someone watching you and looked up to see Ludwig's eyes on you. You blushed as you stood up to sit in your chair. You ate slowly and didn't look at anyone. When dinner was over, you cleared everyone's plates and Arthur told them they could go to the living room to relax and talk. You were putting away a few things in the kitchen and Arthur came glaring at you.

"You need to be more careful," he growled. You nodded.

"I'm sorry, it won't ever happen again," you promised.

"Good. Come on, our guests are getting bored," he said, walking out to the living room. You took a deep breath and hurried out of the kitchen with wine and snacks for Arthur's friends.

You brought them into the living room, giving Alfred his own plate. As you set down the wine on the table, Francis slipped his hand under your dress and grabbed your ass. You gasped. "(Name)," Arthur chuckled, leering at you. "Entertain our guests, love."

You nodded, scared. "W-What would our guests like me to do?" you asked.

"Strip," Francis and Gilbert purred. You blushed.

"I-I'm barely wearing anything though…" you argued softly.

Arthur glared at you, his patience withering away. He stood up and slapped you in the face. "Our guests want you to strip, slut. They want to see you naked," he hissed at you. You cowered. He had never hit you before. He had yelled and screamed at you, even locked you in the basement to starve for days at a time but he had never hit you. He looked at his friends, smirked, then looked back at you. "Fine, then each of our guests can have their way with you." Ivan and Alfred looked up this time, excited. Only Ludwig still looked at the floor. "And they can be as rough as they want."

Ludwig looked up at this. "Women should not be treated like animals, Arthur," he mumbled. They all turned their attention to him. "If you have the pleasure of being with a woman who loves you, you should treat her like a princess, not like a slave."

You stared at him, wanting him to sweep you up and save you from this horrible place where your husband hurt you. "That's funny, Ludwig, I thought I recalled hearing that you're wife was beaten by you and committed suicide the next day. It's a wonder that you aren't in jail," Arthur smirked. You looked horrified and Ludwig looked ashamed.

"Ja…I-I hurt her….and I will never forgive myself for as long as I live…." he mumbled. He felt tears roll down his cheeks. "And she took our little boy with her…she suffocated our child…afraid that he would be hurt by me too…"

You pulled away from Arthur and knelt down next to Ludwig. "I am at your disposal, Master Ludwig…" you told him. He sniffed and looked at you.

"I am bringing this girl home with me," he said, standing and holding you behind his back.

"No you aren't! That's my wife!" Arthur argued. You were scared by the look in his eyes. He pointed at the ground next to him, wanting you to come to him. You started to go, but Ludwig held you still.

"This girl deserves someone who can take care of her and love her and never hurt her," Ludwig said. You looked up at him, fearful. "She has a choice. She can chose to stay with someone who will hurt her, or she can escape and be free."

You sniffed and started crying. "I-I want to go Arthur. It's not safe for us to stay with you," she told him. He raised an eyebrow.

"You are _so_ selfish!" he cried. "Leaving me! And taking my child?!"

"Child?" Ludwig asked. You blushed and nodded. Ludwig looked furiously at Arthur. "You hit your pregnant wife?!"

"Ludwig. You need to go," Arthur said.

"Arthur—" Ludwig started.

"Go! And leave the bitch, or I'll call the police and tell them you kidnapped her," he said.

"Nein," he argued. "If you call the police on me I will tell them about everything you do to her." Arthur glared at you.

"A-Arthur please," you stammered, seeing that he was getting angry. Gilbert tsked.

"Luddy, stop being a pussy," he mumbled.

"Da, Ludwig, some of us don't have such willing people in our lives. She let's us do what we want," Ivan chimed in.

"Unless you can bring another, more gorgeous woman to entertain us, then stop it and just go live your boring life," Francis said, giving him a dirty look.

"Call a stripper," Ludwig said bluntly. He grabbed your arm and brought you out to his car.


	7. UPDATE!

Hey guys! This story may be over, but check out the spin off 'Who to Love' based on Chapter 6! Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!


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